Chosen to Rise Destined to Fall
by Amethest
Summary: Even the most innocent of hearts can be twisted and turned evil.Child innocence & goodness will be lost.Everyone has a destiny, but for one child, it may be the darkest destiny of them all.A VERY UNIQUE TR FIC, UNLIKE ANYTHING YOU HAVE READ B4
1. prologue

Here is a Tom Riddle fic by Narcissa Malfoy and Nokomis. This is quite a different spin on the usual Tom Riddle fic and we hope you enjoy it!  
  
Please review *grin* **************************************************************************** ********** Chosen to Rise; Destined to Fall  
  
Prologue  
  
Sister Mary walked through the central garden of St. Augustine's, smiling as she smelled the sweet scents of the flowers. It was a perfect June day in Greater Hangleton, a warm breeze, and low humidity. There were no chores to be done around the convent for several hours yet, and prayer services had just finished. Sister Mary was taking advantage of the free time by indulging in her favorite pastime of taking leisurely walks through the gardens. Sister Mary loved the central garden the most out of the gardens the nuns maintained. It was filled with many flowers, from bluebells to baby's breath.  
  
Several of her other Sisters were taking leisurely walks through the vast gardens, occasionally stopping and pointing to some of the flowers. They discussed many things of relevance to God, from His glory to the shame of the fall from Eden. Sister Mary chose not to join them because she still felt like an outsider within the nunnery. Sister Mary, at twenty-two, was the youngest nun by far and Abbess Catherine, the head of St. Augustine's, had been very kind to her and helped her adjust. She had grown up in a very small town, miles from Greater Hangleton.  
  
The town had not been the nicest of places for a child of the Lord to grow up. She and her parents may have been devout, but the majority of the town had been awash in sin. Crime and all sorts of debauchery had been commonplace. After her parents had died, she had gotten away from that town as quickly as possible. She had joined the nunnery while the pain of her parent's deaths had still been fresh, and the other Sisters had really helped her cope with the loss. She had never regretted her decision to join the nuns to free herself from the darker sides of humanity she had seen during her childhood.  
  
"Miss!" a voice cried and Sister Mary turned to see a man standing at the gates that led out to the street. He held a bundle in his arms and his hair was wild, as were his eyes. Sister Mary looked around, but the nearest nuns had made their way to the other side of the garden already. She turned back to the man. "Please, Sister, for the love of God," he pleaded.  
  
She took a cautious step towards the gate and slowly made her way until she was standing directly in front of him, her black habit billowing in the slight breeze. "Sir? Are you okay?" she asked slowly.  
  
"Please, you have to take him."  
  
"I don't understand, Sir," she said as he held out the bundle.  
  
"You have to take this child. It is unholy and needs the guidance of your Sisterhood to help him. Its mother was a demon; she was possessed by the Devil himself. I fear that her sins have passed to this child. She was a daemon, a fiendish witch. She died giving birth to this . . . this monstrosity. God kept true to His word of not suffering a witch to live." The man crossed himself before continuing. "It was just a while ago. I came straight here afterwards. Please, will you take him?"  
  
"Sir . . . I -"  
  
"Please!" he begged, his eyes wide. "I am a God-fearing man and I fear that this child needs to be saved, before he brings terrible things down upon us. God forgive me, and I wish His blessings on you." With that, he shoved the bundle through the bars and into her arms.  
  
"Sir -!" she began, but he ran away, sprinting out of sight.  
  
She sighed and looked down at the bundle that she now held in her arms. "Unholy? But this is merely a child," she said softly. Slowly, she pulled back the blanket, revealing a newborn's red face, his eyes still squinted shut. However, he was not crying, which was odd for the newly born. "I have to see Abbess Catherine."  
  
She turned and, clutching the child against her chest, she walked quickly back into the nunnery and headed down several corridors and up a flight of stairs to Abbess Catherine's office.  
  
"Abbess?" Sister Mary called softly, rapping lightly on the door.  
  
"Come in, child," a warm voice said and Sister Mary opened the door slowly, walking into the small office. A few candles were burning and the window was open, giving the room a fresh smell. The cold stones that made up the floors of the nunnery were covered with a thin, red carpet. A mahogany desk sat near the back and behind it sat Abbess Catherine, a tall, very old, extremely pious woman. However, her face was warm and her eyes inviting. "How can I help you, child?" she asked.  
  
Sister Mary swallowed and stepped forward, holding out the child. "A man handed this child to me before I could do anything, just now at the gate," she said. "He said that it needed saving and that he thought we would be the people that could help it."  
  
Abbess Catherine nodded, taking the swaddled child. She looked into the sleeping face of the newborn. "To abandon a child so small," she said softly, sadness and disapproval etched in her features. She was quiet for a few moments and Sister Mary waited patiently, looking out the window at the sun covered rooftops of the lower levels of the nunnery and in the distance, she could make out a few of the taller buildings of Greater Hangleton and the mountains beyond that.  
  
"Sister Mary," Abbess Catherine said, breaking Sister Mary from her thoughts.  
  
"Yes, Abbess?" Sister Mary said, looking back at Abbess Catherine.  
  
"I think we should take in this child, for I think the Lord would wish us to. Our job in life is to help those in need and this child is very much in need of caring. We will raise him in our ways, and hopefully save him and help him towards enlightenment." Abbess Catherine nodded, almost to herself. "Yes, I will take care of this child."  
  
"What will be his name?"  
  
Abbess Catherine peered down at the child and then reached her hand into the folds of the cloth, taking out a piece of paper with a scribble across it that had barely been peeking out of the blanket. She looked at it. "The mother's wish . . . the name of her child. Tom Marvolo Riddle." Abbess Catherine looked back down at the sleeping infant. "And Tom Marvolo Riddle you shall be." 


	2. The Very Best of Friends

Chosen to Rise; Destined to Fall  
  
Part One: The Awakening  
  
Chapter One  
  
- The Very Best of Friends -  
  
"Just to wait until I get out of here, Vincent!" an eight-year old Tom Riddle yelled from his buried position in a pile of snow. He was trying to be angry, but was laughing too hard to accomplish it. "You'll be a snowman!"  
  
Vincent McErith, an eight-year old boy that Tom had known since he was three and his very best friend, was standing a bit away, laughing. "Well, you can't very well make me a snowman when you can't use your arms."  
  
Tom struggled against the snow that was pinning him to the ground but Vincent had got him good this time. Of course, that's what he got for standing behind his snow fort when Vincent had charged him.  
  
Vincent's gray eyes sparkled and there was a huge grin on his face. "I think I won this battle," he said with a laugh.  
  
Tom laughed. "Looks like it to me. Now help me up, would you?"  
  
Vincent walked over and grabbed Tom beneath his arms, hauling him out of the snow.  
  
"Thanks," Tom said and then, in a flash, grabbing a ball of snow and threw it at Vincent. "Snowball fight!"  
  
"Oohh . . . you're going to get it!" Vincent cried, laughing as he picked up snow and threw the balls at Tom. This continued for several minutes until both of them were soaked through and shivering in the chilly breeze. Clouds had begun to form overhead and although it was the beginning of April, it looked like more snow was on the way.  
  
"Let's go in," Tom said, his teeth chattering.  
  
Vincent nodded, shivering. "I could go for some hot chocolate right about now."  
  
"Definitely."  
  
"Boys!" a voice called and they turned to see Sister Mary standing beneath an archway, smiling at them. She held up two steaming mugs. "Hot chocolate!"  
  
They grinned and ran over to her. "Thanks, Sister Mary! You're the best!" Tom cried as he took the steaming mug of hot chocolate between his gloved hands, wrapping his long, spindly fingers around it.  
  
"You always know exactly what we need," Vincent said with a smile, taking his mug.  
  
Tom took a sip and let out a small cry of pain. "Ow! That's hot!"  
  
"Well, it is hot chocolate," Vincent said, laughing.  
  
Tom glared at him. "I figured that much."  
  
Sister Mary chuckled. "Why don't you two come inside? There's a nasty storm on the way and we don't want to be caught up in it."  
  
They nodded and followed Sister Mary deeper into the convent, passing corridor after corridor. As they walked, Tom took hesitant sips of his hot chocolate, determined not to get burned again, and, looking at Sister Mary's back, he fell into deep thought.  
  
Sister Mary had always been there for him, before he could even remember. Abbess Catherine, his mother, had raised him well in the ways of the Lord. Every night before he went to bed, Tom would say his prayers and always kept a cross around his neck on a thin chain. A few years ago, he had found out that he had been adopted by Abbess Catherine, for his real father had dropped him off at the convent right after he was born. His real mother had died while giving birth to him but Tom wished every night that he could see her, always wondering what she had looked like.  
  
However, his Aunt Martha and Uncle William had come to see him after he was a few years old and had continually been coming a few times a year. They had not been able to take Tom to raise him; for their jobs were very high risk-involved and they didn't want to endanger him. They worked for the Ministry, but they had never told him exactly what it was they did. Whenever he would ask, they would say he wasn't old enough to find out and that it was very secret.  
  
Tom, being younger then, hadn't pursued it and let it be. Now, however, he wanted very much to find out what they did. He always had dreams of them being secret agents of the sort, and always wondered what this "Ministry" was. He supposed that his aunt and uncle would tell him eventually, but he had never been known for his patience. They were going to be coming to visit in June, since that was when his birthday was and he hoped that they would tell him then.  
  
Tom glanced over to his right where Vincent was walking, taking sips of his hot chocolate and looking straight ahead. The light of the torches that they passed flickered, making Vincent's white-blond hair shimmer in the light, a stark contrast to Tom's jet-black hair. Of course, Vincent never seemed to have a problem keeping his short hair in line when Tom, no matter what he did, could not make his hair behave if his life depended on it.  
  
Tom smiled. He didn't know what he'd do without Vincent, even though the Sisters were very kind and were like a huge family to him. Vincent had always been there for him, and Tom planned on always being there for Vincent. They were the very best of friends and closer than brothers. Sister Mary and several of the other Sisters would always tease them that they were joined at the hip and nothing could or would ever separate them.  
  
Vincent caught his gaze and grinned. "What are you smiling at?" he asked.  
  
Tom grinned. "What are you?"  
  
"I asked you first."  
  
"True. . . . I was just thinking about how we've been best friends so long and that we'll always remain the best of friends."  
  
Vincent nodded. "You got that right. Friends to the end."  
  
"Whenever that may be."  
  
Sister Mary stopped, turning to face them. They looked at her. "Dinner will be served shortly, so wash up and come downstairs."  
  
They nodded. "Yes, Sister Mary," they said in unison and she smiled.  
  
"You two can look so innocent at times, but I know what pranks you can pull," she said with a chuckle.  
  
They laughed. "I don't know what you're talking about," Tom said, an innocent look on his face.  
  
Vincent just grinned and Sister Mary nodded knowingly.  
  
"I'll see you at dinner." She left them standing in front of the room that they shared and they walked in, setting their mugs down on the table and taking turns washing their faces. There was little heat in their room, but they were bundled up enough not to take notice too much. Anything was better than standing out side in the blistering cold a moment longer.  
  
* * *  
  
"Give me that back!" Vincent yelled, turning red in the face. Tom just laughed at him, and shook his head. "Not until you admit it."  
  
The two boys had changed out of their sopping clothes, and had come to the large playroom where two other boys who lived in the convent were. Henry Stevens, a burly boy of nine with coarse brown hair and hard eyes, was fiddling with a small radio he had been trying to repair for over a year. Shawn Beldon, a blond-haired, slight, eight-year old boy with the disposition of a mouse, was reading in the corner.  
  
"I'm not admitting anything," Vincent shot back, reaching for the piece of paper Tom was holding behind his back, "because it's not true!"  
  
"What's not true?" Henry said from across the room. He was sprawled across an armchair, one foot knocking against the wall. He always sat in the same position, and a black mark on the wall attested to that. Sister Rosemary, one of the crankier nuns at the convent, often yelled at Henry for his 'lack of respect.' Henry, to date, had not allowed the admonishments to stop him in the least.  
  
"Vincent loves Sister Mary," Tom replied with a grin, his unusually bright blue eyes sparkling with laughter.  
  
"Of course he loves her," Shawn said, looking up from his book. "We all love her."  
  
Henry snorted. "Not like that, you git. Vincent wants to marry her."  
  
"No, I don't!" Vincent exclaimed, his face still red. "I just think she's really nice, that's all!"  
  
"Sure," Tom and Henry both said, looked at each other, and then burst into laughter.  
  
"Just . . . give me my paper back!" Vincent snapped, leaping towards Tom.  
  
Tom evaded Vincent's attack, and took off as the slightly smaller boy began to chase him around the room. On the third trip around the room, Tom threw the paper at Henry. "Catch!"  
  
Henry snatched the paper while it was still floating through the air, and looked at it, a grin flashing across his features. "You sure you don't love Sister Mary?"  
  
Vincent blushed to the tips of his ears, and meekly protested. "I don't."  
  
"Then would you care if I," Henry held the paper in front of him, taunt between both hands, and began to make a tiny rip in it, "ripped your picture of her in two."  
  
"No!" Vincent yelped, and ran at Henry. He knocked the slightly older boy's chair over and began to wrestle him for the picture. The play- fighting, though, quickly turned into a real fight as Henry refused to relinquish the treasured drawing of Vincent's.  
  
Shawn watched the fight with growing uneasiness. He just knew that they were going to get into big trouble. He hated disobeying any rules, and didn't like to be around when rules were being broken. And wrestling over a picture Vincent had drawn of Sister Mary was definitely against the rules. "Maybe you shouldn't fight," he ventured cautiously.  
  
Neither of the fighting boys heard him. Vincent managed to get a punch in, but Henry was otherwise wiping the floor with the blond boy.  
  
Shawn tried to think of some way to stop them from fighting. One of them, probably Vincent, was going to get hurt. He gave Tom, who was watching the fight with rapt attention, a desperate look. Tom just shrugged, looking as helpless as Shawn. He might have been the tallest boy at the convent, but Henry outweighed him considerably and was much stronger.  
  
Just then, Sister Mary swept into the room, her long black habit swishing around her. "Boys, time for din-" She took in the scene before her. "Boys!"  
  
She rushed over to where Vincent and Henry were still in a scuffle. "Boys! Cease and desist this behavior at once!" She tapped the shoulder of the boy on top, who happened to be Vincent.  
  
He turned, and saw Sister Mary. A tiny frightened sound escaped his throat, and he began to pull away from Henry, who had stopped throwing punches once he realized Sister Mary was standing there.  
  
"What is the meaning of this?" Sister Mary demanded, glaring at both boys.  
  
"Umm..." Vincent said, staring down at his scuffed shoes.  
  
"I didn't give Vincent his picture back," Henry explained, shoving the now crinkled paper at the other boy. "I apologize."  
  
After shoving the drawing into his pocket, Vincent, glancing up from his shoes, muttered something that could be roughly translated as, "I'm also sorry."  
  
Sister Mary sighed, and took a good look at both the boys; taking in Vincent's bleeding lip and Henry's black eye. "Let's get you two fixed up and then I suggest we get to dinner before the stew gets cold."  
  
After having their cuts and bruises treated, Vincent and Henry came back and the four boys followed the nun to the dining hall of the convent.  
  
The dining hall was a large room, with a long table lined with chairs dominating it, though four small tables adorned with vases sat in the corners for decoration. There, they saw Joseph Emerson sitting at the table already. Joseph was the final boy who lived at the convent. He was also snootier than an abandoned boy had any right to be. Tom and Shawn took their customary seats beside him, and watched as Sister Mary led Henry and Vincent to the head of the table, where Abbess Catherine sat.  
  
"What happened to them?" Joseph asked, staring at the disheveled boys disdainfully. Tom shushed him, and motioned for him to pay attention to what the sister was saying.  
  
"Henry and Vincent got into a tussle," Sister Mary told Abbess Catherine.  
  
"I see," Abbess Catherine said, turning to the two boys in question. "After our meal, you both should go to the chapel and pray forgiveness for this sin. And every time you look in the mirror, you will be reminded of this incident. I expect this not to happen again, understood?"  
  
"Yes, Abbess," Henry and Vincent chorused. She nodded for them to go and they then scrambled over to their part of the table, taking their seats across from Tom, Shawn, and Joseph.  
  
"Where were you all afternoon?" Vincent asked Joseph.  
  
"I was writing my parents a letter," replied the other boy snobbishly. "I'm just positive that they're going to pick me up before summer."  
  
"Of course they are," Henry said sarcastically. "They really did just go on a safari in Africa for the past two years. And I'm sure they've just been a little too busy killing elephants to write you a letter."  
  
Joseph glared at him. "They've written me."  
  
"Then where are all these letters at?"  
  
"They just got lost in the mail. You know how unreliable international shipping is."  
  
"Uh-huh," Henry said. "Every one of your letters somehow ended up at the bottom of the Atlantic."  
  
"Shush!" Shawn said, looking at the nuns nervously. "They're going to hear you!"  
  
"So?" Henry said, glaring at Joseph.  
  
"At least my parents aren't dead," Joseph hissed at the larger boy. Henry didn't even acknowledge the jab and reached for a piece of bread to go with his stew.  
  
Tom, however, had to say something. "It seems to me that it's worse getting abandoned by uncaring parents than being orphaned by loving parents."  
  
Vincent, who had been silently dipping his bread into his soup and eating the sopping mess that resulted, finally spoke. "Joseph, be quiet. You're going to get us all in trouble."  
  
Shawn glanced at the nuns in apprehension. He didn't want to get into trouble. He always figured that if he was really, really good, his parents might come back for him. He missed them terribly. His mother had always smelled like fudge and soap, and she had smiled often. His father had dirt permanently stuck under his fingernails, which his mother had often chastised him over. Shawn glanced down at his fingers. They were perfectly clean. His mother would have been proud.  
  
Joseph ignored Vincent's warning. "Well, Tom, you would know, wouldn't you? After all, your mother's dead, and your father abandoned you. Which parent do you prefer? Of course, I don't see how you could choose, since your father wanted to get rid you. You must have been pretty worthless for him not to care."  
  
Tom didn't answer. He just jabbed his spoon at his stew angrily. Suddenly, the vases fell off all four of the small tables around the room with a shattering crash. Small pieces of broken pottery scattered all over the floor.  
  
The five boys jumped, looking at the broken vases, their eyes wide.  
  
"Oh, my!" cried Sister Mary. The other nuns echoed her sentiments, and they stood from the table quickly, rushing to find dustbins and to clean up the mess. They muttered amongst themselves as they picked up the shards of pottery.  
  
"How did this happen?"  
  
"It was a sign from the Lord!"  
  
"I told the Abbess the floor in here was unsteady!"  
  
The five young boys, who had been commanded to remain at the table, watched the action with rapt attention. The nuns got the mess cleaned up, and Sister Mary came over to the boys.  
  
"I think it's about time for you boys to get to bed," she said in a no- nonsense way. She got five reluctant nods in return, and they left the dining hall, headed for the large room upstairs that served as their dormitory. They all got into their nightclothes, and avoided cleaning up like the plague. After saying their prayers, they climbed into their beds. A few moments later, Sister Mary swept into the room.  
  
"What was that?" Vincent asked her.  
  
"Just a little accident," Sister Mary said with a smile. "So you need not worry about Judgment Day coming for any of you."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Sensing that Sister Mary did not want to speak any more of the subject, they were quiet.  
  
"Goodnight, boys," she said. "Sweet dreams."  
  
"Goodnight, Sister Mary," came the sleepy mumble of the boys. Sister Mary left, shutting the heavy wooden door behind her, and the room was enveloped in darkness.  
  
Tom lay in his bed, eyes still open and roaming the darkened room fruitlessly. He could never just fall asleep at night, no matter how tired he was, or how exciting a day was to follow. He listened to the sounds of the other boys in the room. To his left, Joseph's breathing was already slow and steady. That boy was so very confident that his beloved parents were returning for him, while anyone with eyes could see that they weren't. Joseph refused to listen to anyone who tried to tell him reason, though.  
  
His best friend, Vincent, slept on his other side. Vincent was mumbling to himself a little, just as he always did right before succumbing to sleep. Tom strained to hear what he said, and grinned as he heard the words, "That's my picture!"  
  
Across the room, Shawn was sobbing quietly into his pillow. Tom supposed he should be used to hearing this by now, as Shawn had cried himself to sleep almost every night since he had been brought here two and a half years ago. He had adored his parents, but they had died of cholera. Shawn had also caught the infectious disease, but had survived. Tom sometimes thought it might have been more merciful of God to have taken Shawn with his parents, but God apparently had another plan for the mousy boy.  
  
"Don't cry, they're not coming back," Henry mumbled to Shawn.  
  
This only made Shawn cry harder, but Tom knew that Henry wasn't trying to be cruel. Henry had grown up in a rough, poverty stricken neighborhood, and had a much different perspective on life than melancholy Shawn. Henry, who had only been at the convent for a year, probably had loved his parents deeply, but he refused to show his grief over their passing. He claimed that showing grief was weak, and would only bring you more troubles. Tom thought that idea might have its advantages, though he really didn't see anything wrong with missing the parents he had lost. He missed his mother, after all, and he'd never really even known her.  
  
As Shawn's sobs died off, Tom likewise found himself drifting to sleep.  
  
One last thought snaked its way through his young brain before he slipped out of consciousness.  
  
I wonder what caused those vases to fall... 


	3. The Prank

This is a hilarious chapter and full of fun! **************************************************************************** ******** Chosen to Rise; Destined to Fall  
  
Part One: The Awakening  
  
Chapter Two  
  
- The Prank -  
  
The rain poured from the heavens, soaking the ground and forming large puddles in the gardens. Tom and Vincent, however, were undaunted by this gloomy March weather and ran outside, playing tag in the rain. Henry joined in after awhile and the chase intensified. Shawn watched from the shadows, not wanting to become soaked through, almost wishing that he could go out and play, if only he wasn't so worried about getting dirty. Joseph, of course, was sitting up in his room, writing yet another letter to the parents he just knew were coming to pick him up. Every once and while, he would glance out the window and watch as the three boys ran around, laughing. Then he would sneer, roll his eyes, mutter, "Pathetic," and go back to his letter.  
  
"You can't outrun me forever!" Henry yelled, trying to catch Tom and Vincent, who thus far had eluded him.  
  
Vincent and Tom, however, had very different ideas and had found a hidden spot beneath a large bush. They sat down on the damp ground. "Okay," Tom whispered, grinning as he watched Henry stop and look around, trying to find the two boys. If everything went according to plan, Henry was going to be "It" for quite some time. "Now, he's here," Tom said, drawing a dot in the dirt to represent Henry. "Sister Mary and Sister Rosemary will be in the classroom, going over tomorrow's lesson plan." He drew a quick sketch of the convent and placed two dots where the two nuns were. "Joseph will be in his room," he said, drawing another picture, "Shawn is watching us from the overhang, and Abbess Catherine will be patrolling the eastern halls as usual. Now, that leaves Sister Sarah, Sister Gwendolyn, and Sister Tabitha to worry about . . ."  
  
"I heard Sister Sarah and Sister Gwendolyn talking about praying in the chapel in the afternoon, so they should be there," Vincent said, drawing two dots inside the 'chapel'.  
  
Tom nodded. "Okay, good . . . now what about Sister Tabitha?"  
  
Vincent shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."  
  
Tom frowned. "If anyone sees us, this won't work. Hmm, I wonder," he mused, biting his lip and looking over the drawing.  
  
"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" they heard Henry yell. Vincent looked up and saw that Henry was now near the front gate, quite a bit away from them. Vincent looked back at Tom, who was still examining the picture.  
  
"Hah," Tom said quietly, grinning. "I don't believe I forgot. Remember yesterday when we were walking past their common room and Sister Tabitha and Abbess Catherine were sitting in there, talking?" Vincent nodded. "Well, they were talking about today and Abbess Catherine was giving Sister Tabitha some advice on what to do while visiting the convent in Birmingham . . . so that's where she is! I was wondering why she wasn't at breakfast . . . but now I realize she must have left this morning."  
  
"Brilliant," Vincent said, grinning. He looked down at the crude drawing. "Okay, so we do it now?"  
  
Tom nodded. "But we're going to need Shawn to be the lookout, to make sure no one is coming."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Let's go." Making sure Henry wasn't looking in their direction, Tom erased the drawing, and the two boys crept back to the convent as quietly as they could. Vincent, backing up against a wall, made a soft noise to catch Shawn's attention, who saw him and gave him a confused expression. Vincent motioned for him to come over and when he did, Vincent quickly explained their plan.  
  
"I don't know . . . that's not very nice . . ." Shawn said quietly.  
  
"Oh, come on, Shawn," Tom said, stepping up behind Vincent. He looked down at the small boy, who barely came up to his shoulder. "It's not going to hurt anyone and it'll be fun!"  
  
"But I don't want to get into trouble."  
  
Tom clapped Shawn on the shoulder, his long fingers nearly covering it. "But that's the beauty of it. If you look out for us, then we won't get caught . . . we'll all have a bit of harmless fun. What do you say?"  
  
Shawn looked down, shuffling his feet. "Well . . . if you're sure we won't get in trouble."  
  
"Have I ever misled you?" Tom said, grinning innocently.  
  
Shawn looked at Tom with a sarcastic expression of 'Should I answer?' but only said, "Okay, fine. But if I see a nun coming, I'm telling you and then I'm leaving."  
  
Tom shrugged. "I never said you had to stay. Thanks!"  
  
Tom and Vincent began walking down the long corridor, deep in discussion, their hands waving animatedly. Shawn trailed behind, shaking his head and muttering, "Why am I always the look out . . . one of these days, I'm going to get caught . . . I don't believe I'm doing this." But there was a small smile on his face as he looked at the two boys. The very best of friends . . . inseparable. I wish I had close friends like that . . .  
  
Tom and Vincent, meanwhile, were discussing their plan. "Okay, so you have the screwdriver?" Tom asked.  
  
Vincent nodded, patting his trouser pocket. "Right here."  
  
"And do you have the key to the shed?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"And you're sure all the nuns are where they're supposed to be?"  
  
"Positive."  
  
"Brilliant," Tom said, grinning. "Now, time to get to work." He turned, gave the signal to Shawn, and he and Vincent turned down the corridor and entered the dining hall. There was only the long table, with eleven chairs lining it. Tom knelt down by the first chair and, taking the screwdriver from Vincent, began unscrewing all the screws that held the cushioned seat on the chair. Removing the seat, he set it down on the floor and proceeded to work at the next one. Finally, between the two of them, he and Vincent managed to carry the cushioned seats out of the convent and to the shed where all the wood was stored for the winter. Since the nuns never came out to bring in the wood (that was the boys' job), this would be the last place that they would look.  
  
They piled them in the corner and then, signaling Shawn to make sure Henry was still walking around the garden, crept back into the convent and headed for the nuns' common room.  
  
Vincent peered around the corner and, giving Tom's a thumbs up, they crept into the room and proceeded to remove all the seats from there as well. But this time, they also removed the cushions from the couches, leaving only the bare wood. Grinning at each other, they snuck the cushions out to the shed and then locked it. Thankfully, it had stopped raining.  
  
"They're going to be in for a shock come dinner," Tom said with a broad grin.  
  
"Definitely," Vincent said, grinning just as broadly. Then they felt someone tap their shoulders and they froze. Slowly turning around, they came face to face with Henry, who grinned.  
  
"You're 'It'," he said, smirking.  
  
Vincent and Tom looked at each other and then burst out laughing.  
  
"What's so funny?" Henry asked, crossing his arms.  
  
"You'll see," Tom said mysteriously. Then he tapped Henry on the shoulder. "You're 'It'." Then Tom bolted, Vincent quickly behind as Henry chased after them.  
  
* * *  
  
Tom and Vincent had just changed out of their muddy clothes and were heading out of their room when Joseph passed by them. He glanced behind them and, looking at the pile of brown clothes hanging out of the laundry basket, he sneered. "Disgusting," he said, lifting his nose. "You would think you would at least have some common sense not to play in the mud like pigs."  
  
"You know what, Joseph," Tom said, glaring at the boy who was nearly as tall as him. "I don't care what you think. At least I know how to have fun. And at least I know that I'm going somewhere, somewhere big, and you . . . are not. You're going to be stuck in an orphanage for the rest of your life, only having your miserable self for consolation. If you don't want to be all alone when you are older, I suggest you tune your attitude and take a few notches off of your arrogance meter." Tom turned, grabbed Vincent, and walked away from a very stunned Joseph.  
  
When they reached the dining hall, they bit their lips to keep from bursting out in laughter as they watched the nuns look at the de-seated chairs, muttering in confusion. "Where have they all gone?" Sister Gwendolyn asked, looking around as if the room would tell her where the cushions were.  
  
"Someone unscrewed all the seats," Sister Sarah said, examining the chairs.  
  
Sister Mary spotted the two boys and walked over, looking at the two boys. Although Tom was nearly as tall as she was, her stern gaze never faltered. "Abbess Catherine wishes to speak with you."  
  
Tom and Vincent glanced at each other and then followed Sister Mary up to the head of the hall where the Abbess stood. Sister Mary left the two boys standing in front of the Abbess.  
  
"I would hope that neither of you had anything to do with this," she said sternly.  
  
"Of course not, Sister Mary," Tom said, placing an innocent look on his face. "Why would we remove all the cushions so you had no place to sit?"  
  
"It seems that all the seats have been removed from our common room as well."  
  
"Do you know where the seats are?"  
  
"I was hoping that one of you might be able to tell me," she said, looking at both of them in turn.  
  
"Why would we know?" Vincent asked innocently.  
  
Abbess Catherine frowned. "I'm not in the mood for your games." She looked over their shoulders, spotting someone. "Shawn! Please come over here."  
  
"Oh, brilliant," Tom muttered, looking at Vincent, who let out a soft groan.  
  
"Shawn," Abbess Catherine said, "do you know where all the seats have gone?"  
  
"Um . . ." Shawn said hesitantly. He glanced at Tom and Vincent, who both gave him warning glares. "I . . . n -"  
  
"I know where they are, Abbess," a loud voice said and the three boys turned to see Joseph standing smugly in the doorway. He held up the key to the shed.  
  
"Vincent!" Tom hissed.  
  
"What?! I didn't give it to him!" Vincent whispered back.  
  
"Then how did he get it?"  
  
"How should I know? The last time I had it was in my pocket!"  
  
"You dolt!" Tom groaned. "We left the clothes in our room. Why didn't you grab the key?"  
  
"I forgot!"  
  
"Vincent!"  
  
"Tom!"  
  
"Care to enlighten us, Joseph?" Abbess Catherine said, an eyebrow raised. Tom and Vincent both glared at Joseph venomously.  
  
"Of course, Abbess." Joseph looked pointedly at Tom and Vincent. "It seems that two of your more . . . less than satisfactory boys have removed the cushions and placed them in the shed."  
  
"And who would these two boys be?"  
  
"Tom and Vincent," Joseph said, as if he was announcing something extraordinary.  
  
Henry walked in at that time, about to say something, but then he stopped, seeing the seat-less chairs and the tenseness between Joseph, the Abbess, Tom, and Vincent.  
  
The Abbess turned to face Vincent and Tom, the look on her face leaving no room for argument. "I want to see the both of you in my office immediately."  
  
"Yes, Abbess," they said quickly and hurried out of the room, glaring at Joseph the entire time. Joseph just shrugged and handed the key to the Abbess.  
  
"Thank you, Joseph," she said and left the room.  
  
"Anytime," Joseph said quietly, grinning smugly.  
  
* * *  
  
Tom and Vincent stood in front of the Abbess in her office, completely silent. "I am very disappointed in the both of you. Playing a prank like that!" She shook her head. "And what do you think the Lord would have to say of this?" Neither of them spoke. "Well?"  
  
"I would ask his forgiveness, Abbess," Vincent said quietly.  
  
"It was only a harmless joke," Tom protested.  
  
"Harmless, perhaps, but that still does not negate what you have done."  
  
"I'm sorry," Vincent said.  
  
"You will both take the cushions and place them back on the chairs, and once you have finished that, you will clean the entire dining hall and the common room. And, after that, you will go to the chapel to pray for forgiveness for what you have done."  
  
"Yes, Abbess," they said in unison.  
  
"You may go."  
  
They left and headed back to their room. "That horrible prat!" Tom cried, punching one of his hands into the palm of the other. "Why did he have to go and tell on us?"  
  
"He had to get back at you for what you said earlier."  
  
"That snob will get what's coming to him," Tom said darkly. "He needs to learn his place."  
  
"Tom, don't do anything rash," Vincent warned, slightly nervous at the dark look on his best friend's face.  
  
Tom smiled, the dark look disappearing. "Of course not. I'm not stupid. I'm just saying that people like that always end up getting what they deserve. Horrible people like that will never be happy."  
  
"Very true."  
  
* * *  
  
"Shawn, I am especially disappointed in you," Abbess Catherine said, looking at the small boy that stood in front of her. "To think that you had anything to do with that prank. I thought you knew better!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Abbess." Shawn bowed his head. I knew it! I just knew we'd get caught! Drat!  
  
"You will join your fellow pranksters tonight to help clean the dining hall and our common room, understood?"  
  
"Yes, Abbess."  
  
"You may go."  
  
Shawn nodded and retreated quickly out of her office, heading back to his room. Why did I agree to help them? Sooner or later, I knew that they would get caught. And now . . . now the Abbess looks down upon me and I can't bear that. She's like the mother I never had and her confidence in me means all the world. I can't believe I betrayed her trust. I'm so angry at myself! I should never had gone through with it! Suddenly, a huge portrait hanging on the wall fell to the ground with a loud crash, starling Shawn from his thoughts. He glanced at the huge portrait, swallowing. I didn't touch it! Why did it fall? He backed up and ran for his room.  
  
* * *  
  
"Okay, so here's the plan," Tom said that evening as he and Vincent lay in bed. Henry, Shawn, and Joseph had gone to bed already and were sound asleep. Henry, of course, had congratulated them on a brilliant prank and that they did it without getting caught . . . and they would have gotten away with it if Joseph hadn't tattled on them.  
  
Tom stretched his sore muscles, extending his legs. They had cleaned the dining hall and the common room until it had shone and it probably wouldn't have been as bad if Sister Rosemary hadn't been watching over them the entire time. They didn't speak a word and Shawn, who had been cleaning along with them, hadn't said a word the entire time and afterwards, they had tried to apologize, but he seemed nervous about something and had scampered off before they had a chance to talk.  
  
"I can't believe you're planning the next prank when we got caught!" Vincent whispered, shaking his head and chuckling.  
  
"Well, this time, we'll make sure a certain person doesn't leave the key were a certain snobby two-faced prat can find it."  
  
Vincent rolled his eyes. "Point taken. So, what do you have in mind?"  
  
Tom laughed quietly and quickly explained his plan. Joseph snorted and they both froze, watching as he rolled over in his sleep, but he didn't awaken.  
  
They let out sighs of relief and looked at each other, smiles on their faces. "Tomorrow morning we can talk about it some more."  
  
Vincent nodded. "Definitely."  
  
"Good night, Vincent."  
  
"Good night, Tom." 


	4. Revenge

Chosen to Rise; Destined to Fall  
  
Part One: The Awakening  
  
Chapter Three  
  
- Revenge -  
  
"Do you have it?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"And you didn't leave anything out for him to see?"  
  
"No, I'm not stupid enough to make the same mistake twice."  
  
"So you're sure."  
  
"Yes! Blimey, Tom, you would think you're in a life and death situation here, instead of a prank."  
  
"I'm just being careful, Vincent. I don't want to mess up this time."  
  
"It'll all go as planned. Don't worry."  
  
"So you have it?"  
  
"YES!! Now stop worrying!"  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"TOM!"  
  
"Okay, okay! Sorry . . . where is it?"  
  
"In my trunk."  
  
"Not in an obvious place so Joseph will see it?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Dinner. That's when it has to happen. All the nuns and the Abbess are in the chapel right now for their mass. Joseph is outside; Shawn is reading in the library, and Henry is cleaning the gardens so that the nuns don't have to worry about hauling everything. We'll go out and help him as soon as we finish setting our prank up."  
  
"I'll go get it then. Meet you in the dining hall?"  
  
"Yes. Now go."  
  
"Already gone."  
  
* * *  
  
Tom stood in the dining hall, tapping his foot anxiously as he leaned up against the doorframe. Come on, Vincent. He peeked around the corner, but there was no sign of his best friend. This prank is going to be good, just as long as we don't get caught again.  
  
Finally, he heard the soft pad of footsteps and a few minutes later, Vincent entered the dining hall, lugging a huge bucket full of dark gray liquid.  
  
Tom peered into the sea of gray. "Are you sure this is it?"  
  
"Yes. Will you stop worrying?" Vincent said, laughter in his gray eyes.  
  
Tom rolled his eyes. "I'm just being careful."  
  
Vincent smiled. "Whatever you say."  
  
Tom grinned and walked over to Joseph's chair, squatting down next to it. "Here, bring that stuff over." Vincent hauled the bucket over and dropped it next to Tom.  
  
"You wouldn't believe how heavy this stuff is! How much are you planning on using?"  
  
"Just enough to work." And then Tom pulled out a piece of metal and scooped some of the gray mass onto it, setting it on the chair. The brilliant part was, the gray stuff matched the cushion and so Joseph would not have a clue as to what he was sitting on.  
  
Tom grinned as he slathered the liquid all over the seat. Vincent glanced around. "Hurry up. Dinner is going to be served soon," Vincent said.  
  
"Don't worry." Tom looked at Vincent. "All done." He stood and dropped the metal piece into the liquid. "Let's go." Tom grabbed the handle on the bucket and, making sure the chair looked inconspicuous, the two boys left the dining hall.  
  
* * *  
  
As the nuns and the five boys entered the dining hall for dinner, Tom and Vincent kept sneaking glances at each other, grinning the entire time. Joseph just rolled his eyes and plopped down in his chair, folding his hands and waiting for the prayer. Once everyone was assembled, they said their prayer and began eating. Tom had to try very hard to not look at Joseph and burst out laughing, so he focused instead on his dinner; pork chops, mashed potatoes, and carrots.  
  
Dinner went surprisingly smoothly and then came the highlight of Tom's evening. Joseph went to stand to leave and he did stand, but the chair came with him. Tom smothered his laughs as Joseph tried to pry the chair off but it stubbornly stayed attached. "What is this?" Joseph growled.  
  
"Joseph? Is there a problem?" the Abbess asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"No," he said and tried to pull of the chair again, but it didn't work. His face was quickly turning a very bright shade of red. "Bloody chair," Tom heard Joseph hiss. Then Joseph looked at Tom, who just grinned back. "Tom, of course. What did you do?"  
  
"Why are you accusing me?" Tom asked innocently. "It's not my fault you can't get the chair off of your arse." Tom suppressed a chuckle as he watched Joseph struggle with the chair.  
  
"May I be excused?" Joseph asked, looking at the Abbess. Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Sister Mary stifled a bit of laughter as Joseph turned even redder.  
  
"Of course." Then, to make Joseph's predicament even worse, the Abbess smiled slightly. "But you may want to remove the chair before you decide to go to sleep."  
  
Joseph didn't say anything and, glaring at Tom, he stalked out of the dining hall, the chair swaying behind him, causing him to stagger. Then it got caught on the door and Tom couldn't hold back his laughter anymore and it burst forth, filling the hall. Finally, Joseph freed himself from the door and they heard the sound of the chair clattering on the stone floor all the way to his room.  
  
"Tom." Tom looked at the Abbess' stern face and his smile disappeared. "Did you do this?"  
  
"Perhaps . . . perhaps I aided the chair in sticking," Tom admitted, for he wasn't about to lie to the Abbess, not with the rest of the nuns looking at him.  
  
"Go to the chapel and pray for this sin." The Abbess shook her head. "I know you love your pranks, but you need to know when to draw the line. Please refrain from gluing any of our chairs." Tom saw a hint of a smile on the Abbess' face and he immediately relaxed.  
  
"Yes, Abbess. May I be excused?" The Abbess nodded and Tom left the dining hall.  
  
* * *  
  
"That was brilliant!" Henry exclaimed, sitting on his bed and looking at Tom with a grin on his face. "You two and your pranks!"  
  
Vincent grinned. "Well, it was the least he deserved."  
  
"Exactly," Tom agreed. "That dirty little snitch got what was coming to him."  
  
"I believe he will not be sitting in any chairs any time soon," Henry said with a laugh. Tom and Vincent joined in.  
  
"Not likely," Tom said.  
  
"You shouldn't have done that," Shawn said quietly. The three boys looked at him and he stared back. "Getting revenge isn't the right thing to do. It's just going to come back to you."  
  
"Oh, come on," Tom said, sighing. "You never like our pranks, but they've never hurt anyone!"  
  
"Maybe not hurt physically, but what about emotionally? You may not think so, but I doubt Joseph would agree with you. Why do you think he hates you two? All you do is play on his emotions!"  
  
"What, are you on his side now?" Tom asked, the grin on his face fading.  
  
"I'm on nobody's side," Shawn said, his face expressionless. "I just don't think that was the right way to go about getting revenge, which is something you shouldn't even do in the first place."  
  
"But he embarrassed us!"  
  
"Does that give you the right to embarrass him so horribly?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"I don't agree."  
  
"Well, you don't have to," Tom said, growing angry. "You're always so perfect, aren't you? You just have to be mister 'no, I don't break any rules, because I'm perfect', don't you? Why can't you just let us have some fun? Why do you always have to look on the dark side?"  
  
"Don't get mad, Tom," Shawn said, his face growing worried. He hated it when people argued and he hated to see people mad. "I'm not trying to upset you."  
  
"Well, you failed miserably. Don't talk to me." Tom stood and stalked out.  
  
Shawn looked at Vincent, who shrugged. "Don't look at me," Vincent said. "I don't have any control over his mood swings."  
  
"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him."  
  
"It's okay," Henry said, patting Shawn on the shoulder, who looked up at him. "Tom has a short temper. But don't worry, he'll be fine tomorrow. Don't lose any sleep over it."  
  
Shawn smiled slightly. "I suppose."  
  
"Exactly. That's the spirit," Henry said with a smile. "Now, let's get some sleep, shall we? Plenty of excitement for me, today."  
  
Vincent smiled and the three boys climbed into their respective beds. Vincent stared at the far wall, the shadows playing across it, caused by the light from outside. He wanted to go after Tom, but he knew that when Tom got like this, there was no talking to him. It was like speaking to a brick wall. A very stubborn brick wall. It was always best to let him steam it off. He'd be back to his normal cheerful self the next day. He always was.  
  
Vincent rolled over and closed his eyes, falling asleep. He didn't noticed Joseph coming in later, the chair removed, or in the middle of the night when Tom finally came back and went to sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
By the next afternoon, Tom and Vincent realized something was amiss. Shawn had avoided Tom all day, muttering quick excuses about needing to find something or speak to one of the nuns whenever he had approached him. Henry had likewise steered clear of him, giving a sympathetic glance in his direction when he caught Tom staring at him in confusion.  
  
Joseph had also been acting strangely, alternately glaring at them in anger and smirking at them in triumph. Though he normally would scowl at Tom, Tom had a feeling that there was more behind that smirk that he would flash every once and awhile. Finally, Tom decided to speak to Vincent, who was still talking with Shawn and Henry.  
  
"Vincent, what's going on?" Tom asked, pulling Vincent aside during the afternoon break outside.  
  
Vincent looked at Tom. "What do you mean?"  
  
"With the others. Shawn and Henry refuse to speak to me, and I realize that maybe I got a bit angrier then I meant to last night, but I just have this bad feeling. And then, there's Joseph, who's acting very odd with that smirk that's on his face. I think he's planning something."  
  
Vincent looked at Shawn and Henry, who were tossing a ball back and forth. Then he looked back at Tom. "Well, I'm not sure about Shawn or Henry, but you're probably right about Joseph. After all, we did embarrass him last night and I'm sure he's out for revenge."  
  
Tom snorted. "Joseph couldn't be devious if his life depended on it."  
  
"Well, his pride does depend on it," Vincent pointed out. "And if he really is planning something, he probably let Shawn and Henry in on it."  
  
"He probably blackmailed them or something," Tom said, smirking. "You know he's about as scrupulous as a toad."  
  
"Toads don't have scruples," Vincent said, confused.  
  
"Exactly my point," Tom replied with a grin. "So, we should go and ask Henry and Shawn about this."  
  
They ran over to the other side of the yard, and Tom intercepted the ball as it was heading toward Shawn. Shawn froze and stared at Tom fearfully. Henry just glared and said, "Give that back."  
  
"So," Tom began, ignoring Henry's request. He tossed the ball from hand to hand. "I was curious..."  
  
"About what?" Henry said, not moving an inch. "Joseph seems a little... off today."  
  
Henry shrugged. "Why would I care?"  
  
"Maybe because you're acting a little off also?"  
  
Shawn glanced furtively back between the two boys. Vincent moved to Tom's side, ready to see what Henry had to say for himself.  
  
Henry just sighed. "He's planning something, you know."  
  
Tom nodded. "What?"  
  
Henry shrugged. "He didn't say anything specific. He just wants us to cover for him if you try to snitch on him."  
  
Tom nodded, and turned to Shawn. "That true?" Shawn nodded quickly. "And you all were just going to go along with this?"  
  
Henry looked unabashed. "Yeah."  
  
"I see," Tom said, and turned to leave. "Come on, Vincent."  
  
Vincent followed Tom over to where Joseph had been watching the conversation with blatant curiosity.  
  
"What have you got planned?" Tom demanded before Vincent could say anything.  
  
Joseph smirked at the two boys. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Would I lie?" replied Joseph. "It's a shame, though, about the stray."  
  
There was only one stray at the convent. It was a horrid looking tabby that was affectionately called Tawny by the majority of the nuns. Of all the nuns, Sister Tabitha, in particular, had taken a shine to the scruffy creature. Though, Tom was also quite fond of it as well. He was impressed by the cat's low, feline skulk while it tracked small mice and dust mites around the convent.  
  
Tom tried to leap at the smug boy, but Vincent managed to hold him back by one arm. "Wait, Tom," Vincent cautioned, "don't do anything ... rash."  
  
Tom grumbled, but complied with Vincent's wishes after noticing Sister Mary watching them from in the distance. Tom spoke again. "What did you mean, about the cat?"  
  
"You call that mangy stray a cat?" Joseph snorted. "Well, I do suppose that abandoned street trash does tend to stick together. You and that cat are just alike."  
  
Tom glared, and very nearly leapt at the little prat, but he didn't. Instead, he just ground out a single question. "Where is the cat?"  
  
Joseph smirked again, and pointed up at the roof of the convent. "I put the mangy thing in Sister Tabitha's old songbird cage, and put it up there." He grimaced, and held out a hand that had several angry red welts on it. "Cursed thing scratched like it was possessed."  
  
"Possessed with the good sense to not like you," muttered Vincent.  
  
Tom resisted the urge to elbow his very good friend, and glared at the other boy. "How did you get the cat up there?"  
  
"Attic window," Joseph replied.  
  
Vincent snarled under his breath, "You dirty, no good, rotten little brat. It's no wonder your parents didn't want you..."  
  
Luckily, Joseph was too busy chortling to himself over the brilliance of his first dastardly plot that he didn't hear Vincent's words. Tom looked up at the convent's roof. It didn't look all that high up, but Tom knew that appearances could be deceiving. He hissed to Vincent, "I'm going up there. Keep an eye out for the nuns."  
  
Vincent nodded in agreement. Tom set off for the entrance to the convent. Just then, Sister Mary emerged. "Tom! Just the boy I was looking for!"  
  
Tom froze and smiled at Sister Mary. "Good afternoon, Sister. What did you need?" Should I tell her about the cat? The nuns could get it down and then it would be fine . . . but . . . no, I'll handle this myself. Besides, the cat is in a cage, so it's not like it'll be able to walk somewhere and fall off. It's safe for now and I'll get it later. This is between me and Joseph and I don't need the nuns interfering.  
  
"Come, walk with me," offered Sister Mary, motioning towards the garden. "I wanted to discuss your performance in history. You seem quite interested in the subject."  
  
"I am," Tom agreed, shooting Vincent a desperate look. There was no way he could break free of his conversation without looking horribly rude and ill- mannered. "It's my favorite of the subjects taught here."  
  
"And you're particularly interested in... Great rulers, aren't you? From the Caesars of Rome to barbarians of the likes of Ghengis Khan, correct?"  
  
"Yes," Tom agreed, smiling slightly, and followed Sister Mary into the garden. He took a quick glance back, and noticed that Vincent was nowhere in sight. His smile vanished.  
  
That wasn't a good sign. 


	5. The Results of Rage

Chosen to Rise; Destined to Fall  
  
Part One: The Awakening  
  
Chapter Four  
  
- The Results of Rage -  
  
Vincent looked up towards the sharp peaked roof of the convent, trying to assess how he would climb around once he got up there. At the very top, there was a flat spot where he could glimpse a small fragment of the cage and he could faintly hear the cat yowling. This part of the convent was set far from the regular bustling area. He was standing in a small, weed choked area just north of the chapel portion of the convent. It was no wonder that the nuns hadn't seen him, or even heard the cat yet. The only reason he had found it was that he figured that Joseph would put the cat in an isolated spot.  
  
Vincent slipped through one of the back doors of the convent, and made his way through the convent halls carefully, up stairs and through halls, avoiding anyone that might still be inside until he finally reached the door that led to the attic. He pushed the door open carefully, and started up the dark, dusty stairs.  
  
Maybe this is a mistake, he thought to himself as he looked around the attic after reaching the top. He pushed his fear down, and made his way across the dusty attic, sneezing several times as his footsteps kicked up clouds of dust. He pushed open the window he estimated was on the right side of the convent, and peered out. He could just make out the birdcage holding the cat out of the corner of his eye.  
  
Tom and I have climbed up onto the roof before, so I'm not completely new to this. And besides, Vincent glanced out at the darkening sky, it looks like a storm is blowing in and that cat will be terrified. I have to get Tawny down before it hits. At that moment, a few drops of rain hit the windowpane. This is not what I needed.  
  
Ignoring the increasing fall of rain, Vincent slowly made his way out the window, gripping it and the pipe that ran alongside the outside of it tightly, watching his footing. He flinched as he felt a splinter of wood from the sill pierce the skin of his palm, but he still climbed out. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he made it to onto the roof. Now came the tricky part. Since the roof was so steep, it was very hard to climb and the only way to do so was to grab a hold of the edges of the shingles. Normally it wasn't too bad, but since it was raining, this was going to be extremely difficult.  
  
Vincent flattened himself against the roof and found his grips, holding on until his knuckles turned white. Very slowly, he crawled further onto the roof, sprawled out. Thunder rumbled and he could hear the cat's cries becoming louder. Pushing down his fear, he forced himself on, determined to save the cat.  
  
* * *  
  
"VINCENT!" Tom yelled, running through the courtyards and around the convent, desperately trying to find his friend. Sister Mary and several other nuns were following him, but Tom didn't care. Once he had realized that Vincent had gone after the cat, he knew he had to get to him, regardless if it got them in trouble.  
  
Damn you Joseph! Tom thought angrily. Your stupid prank is going to get my best friend hurt! "VINCENT!!" Tom yelled again, but all he could hear was the howling of the wind and the thunder rumbling overhead. The rain poured down, making visibility slim. Behind him, he could barely hear the nuns calling out Vincent's name as well.  
  
Panic was rising in Tom's chest as he searched and searched to no avail. He had to find Vincent; he didn't know what he would do if anything happened to his best friend.  
  
* * *  
  
Vincent, having reached the flat spot on the roof, sat up on his knees and hurriedly opened the cage, taking out the shaking cat. "Shh, it's alright," Vincent soothed, hugging the drenched cat against his chest and looking around for a way down. How had Joseph gotten Tawny up here in the first place? Vincent shook his head and jumped slightly as a loud clap of thunder sounded overhead. I've got to get down. I'm like a human lightning rod up here. "It's okay," he whispered, stroking the terrified cat. Thankfully, Tawny wasn't struggling too much and Vincent, having a way with animals, was able to keep her calmer than she normally would have been.  
  
He looked back at the path he had taken to get to the cage, but realized that all the rainwater was draining right down the center of the area he had originally crossed. It would be suicide to try to get across that stream of water, he realized. He would slide right off the roof.  
  
Scanning the rooftop, he spotted a slightly easier route down a bit of a ways down the top of the roof. If he could make it over there, it would be a lot easier coming down, since there was another roof halfway down below the topmost roof. He could even jump, probably. Standing, he began making his way over to the spot, taking it slow as the wind howled around him and the rain beat down heavily.  
  
Reaching the spot, he dropped onto his stomach, hugging the cat to him, and began descending the treacherous roof carefully, concentrating on getting down.  
  
"VINCENT!" a voice broke through the wind. Vincent glanced over his shoulder to see Tom running across the muddy ground, followed by several nuns, all looking up at Vincent. "Stay there! We're coming to get you!"  
  
Vincent shook his head. It'd be too dangerous if Tom tried to come up here. I'd only be endangering his life too. Vincent began working his way down and then, it happened.  
  
There was an extremely loud crash of thunder overhead, and simultaneously a strong gust of wind hit Vincent. Startling Tawny, he scrabbled at Vincent and Vincent lost his grip, tumbling backwards into the blackness.  
  
* * *  
  
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. One minute Vincent was up on the roof and Tom was nearly to him and then there was a loud clap of thunder and Tawny panicked. Tom watched in horror as his best friend tumbled from the roof, landing hard on the lower roof below and then tumbling off. Tawny had already leapt off and had run into the shadows.  
  
Tom ran to where his best friend had hit the ground, and stared in horror. He could already see a gash in Vincent's scalp, blood trickling from it and mixing with the rainwater that covered Vincent's face, and then dripping into the mud. Tom fell to his knees next to him, mindless of the cold mud oozing onto his trousers and into his shoes.  
  
"Vincent!" Tom cried, holding his best friend in his arms. Vincent was unconscious; his eyes didn't even flutter as Tom shook at him. Tom looked up at the two roofs, knowing that it was at least ten feet from one roof to the next and Vincent had landed hard on the lower roof. The nuns ran up to him and Tom buried his head in Vincent's jacket. He lifted his head, tears in his eyes.  
  
Vincent was barely breathing and Tom knew that he had to get help quick, or he wlould die. "Tom, we've called the police and they have an ambulance on its way," Sister Mary said softly, crouching down next to Tom. A siren could be heard in the distance, growing louder.  
  
Tom, lost in his thoughts, barely heard her or the siren. He just kept staring at his best friend, anger rising in his chest. He didn't even move as he felt someone take Vincent from his arms and place him in the back of the ambulance. Sitting in the mud, the rain pouring down, Tom just stared after the ambulance as it sped away, the siren softening. Joseph . . . That one word rang through Tom's head as his anger surged upward and his hands clenched tightly in the mud. He could feel it oozing between his fingers and he wished that it was Joseph he was squeezing. His lips thinned as his face contorted in a mask of fury. You're going to pay . . . for what you did to my best friend. You will pay. His eyes blazed red as he grew angrier and angrier and then he felt a hand on his shoulder and the red vanished. He looked up to see the concerned face of Sister Mary.  
  
"Come in, Tom. We'll go see Vincent. He's going to be fine," she said softly and helped him stand. "The Lord is with him. Don't worry."  
  
Tom took a deep breath, calming the rage that burned within him, but not quenching it. It sat there, hidden and quiet for now, but still burning steadily, ready to leap out at a moment's notice.  
  
He nodded and Sister Mary took a cloak and laid it on Tom's shoulders, leading him inside.  
  
* * *  
  
Tom entered his room, and walked mechanically to his bed. The other boys, save poor Vincent, were already in bed asleep. Sister Mary had talked the Abbess into allowing Tom to go with her to the hospital, and he had regretted it. Seeing his best friend, normally so lively, lying so still on that white sheeted bed had been horrible . . . . . . . . .  
Vincent's chest had been rising and falling normally, and the nurse who had checked on him said that he would be fine. That, however, didn't push Tom's fears away. Vincent looked awful. Bruises and scrapes marred visible skin, and a white bandage was wrapped around his head, tufts of pale hair sticking out of the top.  
  
Vincent had let out a groan of pain in his sleep as he tossed suddenly. Tom had stared, then asked, "What's all hurt?"  
  
The nurse had said to him, "Don't worry, dear, he will be fine. Just a bump on the head and some broken bones. As long as infections don't set it, he'll be up and about in a few months."  
  
"Months?" Tom had asked, shocked. A month was eternity! How could it take several months for his friend to mend from something that had only taken minutes to occur?  
  
The nurse had smiled sympathetically. "It takes a while for bones to mend," she explained. "Your friend broke his ankle as well cracking a few ribs. He's lucky, though, none of the ribs pierced anything. So, it'll take a while for the bones to knit themselves back together, then to regain their strength. But, as soon as that happens, he'll be good as new."  
  
"What's wrong with his head?" Tom asked. The white bandages looked like they were for serious injuries.  
  
"He's got a concussion," replied the nurse as she checked Vincent's temperature, and jotted a few numbers down on a sheet of paper that she stuck into a folder at the end of the bed. "I have to finish my rounds now, but trust me. Your friend will recover." She looked at Sister Mary, and motioned for her to follow her into the hall. "May I speak with you for a moment?"  
  
"Of course," replied Sister Mary, and followed the kindly nurse into the hall. Tom was left in the large children's room with Vincent and a dozen other beds, some occupied with sleeping children.  
  
"I'm so sorry," he said to his unconscious friend, sitting down on the uncomfortable chair meant for parents. "But don't worry; I'll get that little rat Joseph back for this."  
  
"Look at that boy," he heard a voice say. He glanced over to see a couple standing at the far side of the hospital room. They were looking in his direction.  
  
"Yes, he is a fine looking child," said the woman. The man nodded in agreement, and called to Tom, "What is his name?"  
  
Tom wondered what to do, but figured it wouldn't hurt to answer. "Vincent."  
  
The woman smiled, and whispered something to the man. Vincent moaned in his sleep, and Tom looked down at him to make sure he was alright. When he looked back up, the couple was gone.  
  
He was still staring at the empty spot in the room when Sister Mary spoke. "Are you ready, Tom?"  
  
Tom jumped. He muttered, "Yes," then whispered a farewell to Vincent. Sister Mary said a brief prayer over Vincent, and then they left the hospital. . . . . . . . .  
"Tom? Is that you?"  
  
Joseph's voice startled Tom back into the present. He glared at the smaller boy, who was climbing out of bed.  
  
"It's me," Tom confirmed.  
  
Joseph looked at him expectantly. Tom wasn't quite sure what it was that Joseph wanted him to say, so he continued to pull his night clothes out of his small bureau, squinting in the dim light to make sure they matched.  
  
"How's Vincent?" Joseph finally broke down and asked, realizing that Tom wasn't going to volunteer the information.  
  
Tom slammed the bureau drawer shut. "He's in the hospital. How do you think he is?" he asked, his voice filled with anger.  
  
Joseph stepped back as Tom stood up, and moved towards him. Tom towered over him, and he looked mad.  
  
"Hey, I didn't mean for him to get hurt!" Joseph said, trying to defend himself. "I didn't think he would be stupid enough to go up there alone, in the rain, no less."  
  
"Vincent's not stupid!" Tom snapped loudly.  
  
Henry, whose bed was closest to Tom's, grumbled, "Go back to bed!" before pulling his grey blanket back over his head.  
  
Joseph smirked at Tom, knowing that he had gotten to him. "Well, then why did he go up there after that creature, if he isn't stupid?"  
  
"Tawny is not a creature, and Vincent is actually a good person, unlike you!"  
  
"At least I have the sense not to go on the roof during a thunderstorm," Joseph shot back. "That fool deserved what he got!"  
  
Tom lunged at Joseph, punching him in the nose. Joseph cried out, and Tom pulled his fist back for another hit. Just then, a knock sounded at the door of the boys' room. "Boys? Are you all in bed?" Sister Mary asked through the heavy wooden door.  
  
"I was just about to," Tom replied, holding his fist in his hand. It hurt. He snuck a look at Joseph. A tiny trickle of blood decorated his upper lip. "You'd better not tell any of the nuns about this," he hissed at Joseph.  
  
Joseph just glared back, and gave a barely perceptible nod.  
  
"I'm going to bed now," Tom said angrily. "I'm not going to waste my time fighting with you."  
  
"Fine," Joseph replied, and returned to his bed. Tom got into his night clothes, said a brief prayer mostly asking for a quick recovery for Vincent, and crawled into his bed, feeling the smooth cotton of the plain white sheets envelop him as he settled in for the night.  
  
The roof was slippery.  
  
Tom scurried across its wet surface anyway, heading towards where the cat sat in the songbird cage, squalling over the noise of the storm.  
  
"Almost there," he muttered. Vincent nodded. He was crawling across the roof beside Tom, and doing a better job of it. At least, he wasn't slipping quite as much.  
  
Tom finally reached where the cage with the cat in it was, and opened it. He pulled out the cat, and cuddled it in his arms. "You're okay, Tawny," he assured the cat. "Everything's fine, now."  
  
"Yessss," hissed Tawny in his ear. Tom pulled away from the cat only to realize it was no longer a cat. A huge black snake was entwined around his thin arm, wrapped around his body. The snake flicked its tongue at him, and stared at him with ageless emerald eyes.  
  
Tom tried to pull away from the snake, but couldn't. It was wrapped around him too firmly. He struggled against its embrace anyway, flinging his arms around.  
  
He hit something solid. He looked to see Vincent plummeting off the roof from the force of his arm's contact. "NOOOO!" he yelled, and leapt after his friend. The snake held him back from leaping over the edge of the room, and he could only stare shocked at his friend's crumpled body on the ground below. Dark cloaked figures surrounded Vincent's body, and then looked up at him. They then dropped to the ground in worshipful bows, and a circle of flames licked at their robes. The dark cloaked men soon thankfully faded from view.  
  
"Vincent!" Tom cried, and then became aware of the fact that the portion of the roof he was seated on was becoming increasingly warmer. He coughed, and realized that smoke was what was obscuring the dark cloaked men from his view.  
  
"HELP!" he cried. Flames licked at his feet. The convent was in flames, and he could hear screaming coming from below him. "NOOOO!!"  
  
Tom sat up in bed, panting. That dream had been awful! Snakes and Vincent falling and fire and smoke...  
  
He took in a deep breath, and noticed something. The air tasted funny. Kind of acrid, just like smoke. He looked around the room. The air was hazy, just like in his dream...  
  
He crept out of bed, and stood barefoot on the cold hardwood floor, surveying the room. Sleeping bodies filled two of the other beds, the nighttime peace of the room broken at moments by quiet snorts from Henry. Tom looked at the empty beds. One was neatly made, untouched because Vincent was sleeping elsewhere tonight. Tom shuddered to think of how Vincent would feel if he awoke in that awful, sterile room in the middle of the night with no one there to explain what had happened to him.  
  
The other empty bed had its covers shoved down to the foot of the bed, and the pillow lay askew, dangling off the edge of the bed. It looked like Shawn had another nightmare. He had woken Tom and the other boys up on more than one occasion with a bone chilling scream in the dead of night.  
  
Tom coughed, and once again noticed the air quality of the room. It was getting even hazier, and Tom began to feel the slightest bit claustrophobic as the room seemed to shrink as the room became more obscured.  
  
Smoke, he thought. The room is filled with smoke. He hurried across the room, and tried to open the door.  
  
The brass doorknob was not quite hot to the touch, but it was very warm.  
  
He drew his hand away quickly, and yelled to the sleeping boys, "FIRE!"  
  
"What?" There was a thump as Henry fell out of bed. He looked up at Tom in confusion from a rumpled heap of bedclothes on the floor, and repeated his question.  
  
"Fire!" Tom said, panicked. "The convent is on fire!"  
  
"That isn't funny," Joseph said in an uppity manner. "Just because you're mad at me doesn't mean you should pretend like the place is on fire."  
  
"It really is!" cried Tom. "Don't you smell the smoke?"  
  
A look of panic appeared on Joseph's face as he took a sniff of the air. "You're telling the truth!" he cried, startled. Henry untangled himself from the covers, and went over to the door with Tom. He too grabbed at the door handle, but drew away as he felt the heat coming off the metal.  
  
"Get a blanket or something, so we can open the door," Tom said, holding out a hand to receive the blanket from Joseph. He used the edge of the plain grey blanket, and turned the doorknob cautiously.  
  
No flames jumped out at them, but smoke plumed into the room, leaving the three young boys coughing violently. Tom leaned over, coughing, and realized that the air was much clearer down near the floor. He yelled at the other two boys to drop, and then said to them, "Okay, we're going to crawl for the closest exit."  
  
Henry and Joseph nodded in agreement, and they crawled into the dark, smoky hall. The hall that had seemed short, and hardly a nuisance to run down to reach his room for his entire life, now seemed endless. They crawled in a line, with Tom leading the way, and Henry flanking Joseph.  
  
Finally, after minutes, hours, years worth of crawling, they reached the front hall. Tom hadn't actually seen any flames in the journey from their room to here, though it was hard to see through his burning eyes and the thick layer of smoke in the air, but now the front door was in sight. Tom stood up, and ran across the smoke filled room, followed closely by Henry and Joseph. The front door was already ajar, and Tom flew past it, into the fresh night air.  
  
The normally peaceful courtyard was in shambles.  
  
A Dennis fire truck had pulled right into the garden, a small planter of petunias crushed under its wheels. Even in the nighttime darkness, its bright red paint gleamed, and its bug like round headlights reflected flames. Firemen were hooking a hose up to it, while others donned gear and headed towards the convent.  
  
Tom, ignoring his burning eyes, glanced back up at the convent, even as he was swept off the steps by a large man wearing a fireman's uniform. Flames licked out the upper floor's windows, casting an eerie light over the courtyard. Tom felt himself being wrapped up in a blanket, and saw Henry and Joseph receiving the same treatment. Suddenly, he realized something. "Shawn!"  
  
"Who?" asked the fireman who was wrapping Tom in a blanket.  
  
"Shawn! He wasn't in his bed! I don't know where he is!" Tom cried, a bit panicked. "Where is he? Did he get out?"  
  
The fireman called over to another fireman who speaking to a nun who looked like the Abbess, though it was hard to tell because she was in her nightgown and robe, and was writing something down in a small notebook. "Have you gotten another kid out of there?"  
  
"There's another kid?" said that man, shocked. He turned, and began to yell out a list of orders to a few firemen who were standing idle.  
  
Tom sat down on the ground near Henry and Joseph where the fireman had led him to wait for the ambulance to arrive, staring at the convent. His home was burning. Loud creaks and groans came from the convent, even louder than the crackling of the flames. Shawn was in there. Shawn, who wouldn't hurt a fly, was inside that smoky, burning building. Sirens sounded shrilly in the distance, but Tom barely heard them. He was too worried about poor Shawn, trapped in the flames and smoke.  
  
After long moments of agony, where Tom prayed and hoped that his friend would escape the burning building, that he wouldn't have to go back to the hospital and see another friend unconscious on a sterile white bed, a figure emerged from the building.  
  
It was a fireman, and he held an unconscious Shawn in his arms. 


End file.
